


Street lights, like moments passing

by scripsi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff, Social Worker!Bellamy, nurse!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scripsi/pseuds/scripsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: I saw you trying to hit the “door close” button in the elevator but I made it in and then I pushed every single button to make you later for work, but now we’re stuck in this fucking elevator as it stops at every single floor and I don’t know what to say other than “you started it” AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Street lights, like moments passing

Clarke walks in a sort of daze to the elevator. She had a crazy long shift, and the doctor on call for the last six hours was Dr. Tsing, an indisputable hard ass. Clarke enjoys being a nurse most of the time. Her mother was a doctor, so she was always interested in health, but the human interaction of being a nurse was more appealing to Clarke.

She’s finally in the elevator when she sees her neighbor, Bellamy walk through the entryway to their apartment complex loaded with groceries. Not wanting to deal with his sass today, she presses the close elevator button. It’s rude, but... so is he.

Unfortunately, she underestimates his speed. He makes it into the elevator just in time with, yikes, five bags of groceries. She looks at him a little sheepishly. He barely looks over at her before pressing the third and fourth floors. She’s a bit confused because they both live on the eighteenth floor, but then he presses the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and... damn it, Bellamy!

She stares impatiently at the opening and closing elevator doors while he reaches over and as his pièce de résistance presses the button for the sixteenth and seventeenth floors at the same time. The elevator suddenly jerks to a halt.

They glance over at each other before Bellamy mutters under his breath, “damn it.”

Clarke presses the emergency button, and picks up the red phone to tell the complex that two of their residents are stuck and grumpy.

When Bellamy grumbles a couple minutes later, Clarke shoots him a glare. “This is your fault, you know. It stalled because you pressed all of the buttons.”

Bellamy settles on the floor. “Well, it should be able to handle that. Hopefully, I can make the elevator safe for future generations.”

She ignores him, so he adds, “also, I never would have done that if you hadn’t tried to shut me out of the elevator.”

Clarke huffs before settling on the floor across from him. He pulls out a book from his bag because of course he does, and Clarke leans back against the wall of the elevator. After a few minutes, Bellamy offers her an apple. 

Clarke smiles slightly when she takes it. “Well, I’m glad you decided to get groceries on the day that I tried to ride the elevator alone.” 

He laughs. “I guess it is. If we’re in here for much longer, we’ll have to seriously think about how much milk we can drink before it goes bad.” 

“I think I’ll be fine with just the apple, thanks.”

After about fifteen minutes, Clarke pulls out her sketchbook. She flips through some of her unfinished drawings, but ends up on a blank page. She looks around the elevator and her gaze falls on Bellamy. He looks so focused reading his book. His brow is furrowed, but he seems relaxed. One hand is holding the book, one elbow is resting on his knee.

She can’t resist sketching him. After another twenty minutes or so, he looks over and sees her sketch. He smirks at her. She notices, but says nothing.

“So,” he starts, “you like what you see.”

Clarke rolls her eyes at him. He’s a good guy, but sometimes his arrogance is just ridiculous.

“You are very beautiful, Bellamy. Good work to your genes.”

He seems caught off guard by her candor, but barrels on all the same. “Well, my genes appreciate your compliment.”

Her lips curl into a smile as he continues, “your genes do pretty good work as well.”

He watches as she goes back to her sketchbook. She feels him watching her, and he looks like he wants to say something, so she raises an eyebrow, but continues drawing him.

“What?” she asks.

“Just, uhh…” he clears his throat, “you’re a pretty incredible artist. Even without the good work of my genes, it’s clear you’re very talented.”

She’s charmed by the compliment in spite of herself, and her cheeks color slightly. “Thank you. I don’t get to draw as much as I would like, but whenever I have a free moment I sketch. At the laundromat, waiting for take out…”

“... waiting in a broken elevator because an asshole pushes all the buttons,” Bellamy finishes.

She laughs, “yes, then too apparently.”

Bellamy looks thoughtful before remarking, “I really am sorry. I was just bitter because you were in a hurry and I had a rough day.”

“What happened?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “One of the cases I’m working on has this really really great kid. Her parents were killed under the nose of the U.S. Marshals, so she blames,” he pauses, “pretty much everyone. She tried to attack the mayor’s son last week. Thankfully she wasn’t successful, but the city is trying to move her into a juvenile correctional center. I just think that with the right guidance, she would be okay.” He shakes his head. “It’s frustrating because I can only do so much. It feels like social workers are at the absolute bottom of the totem pole. We have so little power to do anything.”

Clarke puts her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. It must be tough.”

Bellamy tries a soft smile. “Yeah, it’s rough. But at least we don’t have to deal with arrogant obnoxious doctors, just arrogant obnoxious lawyers. I don’t know how you do it.”

Clarke smiles. “Oh it’s easy. I just repeat: ‘I love my job, I love my job, I love my job’ every night until I fall asleep.’”

He laughs, and it’s such a good laugh. Clarke wonders why they’ve never done this before. Not sat around trapped in an elevator, but talked, spent time together.

She’s smiling back at him, and he leans in to kiss her. She moves away as the elevator jerks to life, and says “really? You thought it was a good idea to do that… in an elevator.”

Bellamy looks sheepish, and they don’t say much as they are rescued from their short-term confinement.

Unable to resist, Clarke leans in and kisses him goodbye on the cheek. She whispers, “I hope we get stuck in an elevator again” with a wink before sauntering off to her apartment.

As she unlocks her door, she chances a look to see him frozen by the elevator with a dumbfounded look on his face. He notices her looking, and his expression transforms into a wolfish grin. Oh, boy. She is in trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! A short one-shot. Let me know what y'all think! I'm on tumblr at [legividivici.](legividivici.tumblr.com) Prompt me there, if you like. :)


End file.
